


Really a Sensitive Soul, Deep Down

by eternalsojourn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingering, M/M, Rimming, assplay, bottom!tony, embarrassed!Steve, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8590729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsojourn/pseuds/eternalsojourn
Summary: Tony really likes it when Steve is eager and embarrassed. Really really.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Tony's Oral Ministrations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8100982) but since this whole 'verse is just fairly fluffy porn, this can really stand on its own.

The absolute best thing about sex with Steve — aside from getting to touch what is probably the single hottest body he’s ever got his hands on — is how first-timey he makes everything feel. The kisses alone have an illicit, enthusiastic quality that Tony isn’t sure he’s  _ ever _ experienced. Tony’s always enjoyed sex and hasn’t had the slightest amount of shame about it, so pretty much nothing he’s ever done has ever felt taboo or stolen. But even though it actually  _ isn’t _ taboo or stolen, sex with Steve always seems like some kind of forbidden indulgence. It’s fucking delicious, is what it is.

Steve’s jitteriness the first time Tony blows him, his crackling reactiveness to every shift in technique makes Tony feel like it’s new to  _ him,  _ too. It makes him pay attention, to become aware of things like their position in the room, of the tableau they make, of the sheer amazingness that  _ he’s sucking on Captain America’s penis.  _ Which is another thing that Steve has altered for Tony: the words in Tony’s head aren’t the filthy, porny ones that fall off his tongue like so many curse words. They’re the early ones, the ones he used to roll around in his mouth when he was first discovering that sex was a thing and found pictures and descriptions of it. Titillating. It lights up the 15-year-old part of his brain that used to fantasize about the Great Captain America of the stories and posters.

And it’s also a kind of savourable agony thinking ahead to the things he wants to do to Steve, knowing that maybe they’ll get there, maybe they won’t (and either is okay really) but Tony gets to fantasize either way with that delicious uncertainty. 

When he finally gets his tongue in the deepest, darkest parts of Steve’s body, it’s more enjoyable than he ever remembers that activity being (and he remembers it being damned enjoyable). Steve’s whole body is twitchy when he does it, his asshole clutching and releasing and telegraphing every bit of Steve’s embarrassment. Tony’s gentle and cautious, and he’d back off if he thought Steve wanted him to, whether Steve asked or no. It might’ve physically pained him to stop, but he would because he has no interest in breaking the sexual trust Steve’s placed in him. But he can tell how badly Steve wants to relax to it and hears Steve’s frustration when Tony removes his tongue. And he can feel the subcutaneous vibration of the man’s whole body, like he’s zinging beneath the surface with the electric charge of being licked open. And when Steve masturbates himself to completion with Tony pressing his tongue up inside, Steve comes like a goddamn fourth of July firework. Tony decides rimming Steve was one of his finer ideas. 

Honestly, Tony could do it all day. He kind of wants to try. He’s a little afraid that it’ll show on his face when they’re in SHIELD briefing meetings or some other inopportune place, how much he’s thinking of having his face buried in Steve’s ass. Because he will be. He’ll be thinking about that for weeks.

And actually, at the first briefing after that glorious day, Tony finds himself daydreaming about it while Fury scolds on about property damage and public perception and blah blah blah. Tony’s leaning his elbow on the table with his fist held loosely in front of his mouth. He’s so lost in the memory that without really meaning to, his tongue reaches out to touch his own hand. It turns out Steve has chosen that exact moment to look at Tony, and there’s no poker face on him. His nostrils flare, his eyes blaze, his lips part, and the blush on his face blooms fast and rosy. It’s gorgeous, although not at all what Tony intended. He wants to tease some more, but Steve has already earned himself a stern glare from Fury and snaps back to attention as if Fury had smacked a ruler on his school desk. Tony almost feels bad. Almost.

But if there’s one thing that incident tells him, it’s that Steve isn’t harbouring regretful memories about that activity. So while Tony can ordinarily take in volumes of data while thinking of other things, he finds he can’t actually listen to any more about smiling nice for cameras. Not when he’s getting ideas.

He can’t wait to get Steve alone again. But of course,  _ of course _ , there’s a Kree attack which they fight off with considerable effort but nothing worse than they’ve handled before. It does mean that Tony has to make repairs and upgrades to everyone’s gear over the following few weeks, and that occupies him thoroughly.

By the time he emerges from his workshop, eats a Thor-worthy amount of food, collapses for 18 hours of sleep, and gets through the update meetings he’s required to muster, he’s quite ready for some diversions.

And Steve, bless his boy scout heart, is ready, alert, and prepared to help Tony unwind. When Tony enters the tower and makes his way to his bedroom to change, Steve greets him by pulling him in by the waist and kissing him, arching forward so much that Tony’s utterly off balance and stuck relying on Steve to hold him up. He wants to laugh because how did this become his life, Captain America virtually sweeping him off his feet? But it comes out as a huff that morphs into a satisfied hum, then an interested hum, then a bit of a moan. Because actually, he’d kind of forgotten about the plans, which was probably for the best, you know, in the interest of good industrial design.

But now he remembers. He remembers it all.

“Mmf,” he says as he tries to pull back with limited success. Steve is pretty insistent about the kissing. “Steve,” he says, muffled enough that it comes out more like “Fteve”.

“What,” Steve says, still arching forward and continuing to take more kisses anyway and Tony keeps granting them even though he wants to feel out a bit of his plan verbally first. This is the thing, the terrible thing: Steve’s turned into someone he can’t really deny, though he’ll publically disavow the fact till his dying breath.

“Steve,” he says, more insistently, and Steve pulls back this time and searches Tony’s face. He looks affronted and greedy for more at the same time, which shouldn’t be possible and definitely shouldn't be attractive but there it is.

“I’d like to try something, a bit like last time.”

Steve’s blush grows up from his collar this time. He swallows and looks down, peeking up with a shy smile. Then he leans in again so he brush his lips under Tony’s ear. “Yeah, about that.” He doesn’t follow it up with anything.

Tony starts in on Steve’s waist, grazing fingertips over bare skin. “Go on,” he says, as much honey as he can muster in his voice.

“I. I thought about that a lot. Since then.”

Tony lets out a slow breath through pursed lips and closes his eyes on the next thought. “Tell me you touched yourself when you did.”

Steve nips at his neck, then kisses it with soft lips. “Yeah. I did,” he says softly.

“That is so unbelievably sexy,” Tony says, nosing his way up Steve’s throat. “You don’t even know.”

“But,” Steve says. “It’s. I’m still… I don’t. Yet. You know?”

“Right, right,” Tony says as he traces the bump of Steve’s adam’s apple with his tongue. “Go slow. I get it. I’ll be good. I’ll be gentle. Promise.”

“I know,” Steve replies simply, and turns them around and starts pushing Tony back towards the bed. The combination of Steve’s strength and pushiness with his obvious inability to articulate what he wants just  _ does  _ things to Tony. It makes him want to debauch and it makes him want to nurture and he feels simultaneously like a bad man and a good one, which feels about right overall.

Steve is all initiative right now, unbuttoning Tony’s shirt and pushing it off him, then perfunctorily peeling his own t-shirt over his head. Tony doesn’t even regret the opportunity for a slow stripshow because Steve’s military efficiency and the speed with which he reveals all that skin is reward enough. 

Occasionally Tony’s wondered how Steve sees himself, if he's still the scrawny kid inside his head, if he senses his own incredible gravitational pull that Tony suspects has very little to do with muscle mass. It certainly pulls Tony in, inexorably. He traces pecs, lats, abdominal muscles, and imagines the smaller body beneath. It's hard to picture but it's easy to feel a general sense of compassion, of softness for the boy Steve was. Thinking ahead to what he has planned, he feels like he’ll be doing it to  _ that  _ Steve: the sparky, brave, untested one.

Steve pulls him out of that reverie effectively enough, hoisting Tony up suddenly, gripping him below his bum and dumping him on the bed. He strips Tony’s pants and underwear off in one go and tosses them to the side, quick movements designed to get him to his goal, which is to press Tony down into the mattress. It’s still startling being manhandled so easily, such a marked difference from most of Tony’s previous couplings. He revels in it, knowing that pretty soon he’s going to tip the scales the other way.

And for a bit Tony actually thinks maybe they won’t get to it. Steve has hiked up Tony’s leg to curl around Steve’s back, and is arched over teasing Tony’s nipple into a point with silvery spit and the occasional sharp bite. It’s so nice being the target of Steve’s not-inconsiderable focus that Tony almost wants to save his plan for another day in the interest of letting himself be worked over. But then Tony traces the inner contours of Steve’s ear with his tongue, and Steve does this whole body shiver, and that’s it. Tony’s on deck.

He rolls them over, which Steve doesn’t resist at all, thankfully, and rests on Steve’s body, one knee on the bed beside him. He laces his fingers through both of Steve's hands, kisses him deeply, and then guides his hands up to the headboard. He very deliberately curls Steve's fingers over the top lip of the oak headboard and looks Steve in the eye. 

“Stay,” he says, drawing out the syllable faux pet-handling style. He means to introduce a little playfulness but Steve's response is one hundred percent sincerity when he considers for a moment, then nods. Tony grasps the trust placed in him, and although he knows he often disappoints his loved ones in so many ways, here at least he absolutely deserves Steve's trust. That doesn’t stop the little twinge beneath his ribcage. Steve believes Tony when he says he’ll be gentle, and Tony gets the full impact of all that trust, all that flesh, all that personality beneath his hands.

So he uses them, stroking over ribs, feeling where they end and muscle and softer flesh begin. He traces around the dip of Steve's belly button, and draws a thumb in a line back up the middle, sliding along collarbone and up Steve's throat. When he moves up further, grazing that full lower lip, Steve opens and sucks Tony’s thumb in, watching Tony’s face all the while. With his hands still up on the headboard, it's about as obedient and eager to serve as he's ever seen Steve, and a heavy heat drops in Tony’s gut, something more intense than any desire he's ever felt before. He wants to keep Steve there and show him the indulgence of his own body, to bring Steve to the edges of pleasure and test those boundaries.

He lets Steve suckle his thumb for a long moment, then withdraws and uses the wetness to slick one of Steve's nipples, the cooling air on it contracting the flesh into a rosy peak. He blows on it gently just to watch the surrounding skin prickle up. For a guy who can take blunt force trauma like it’s nothing, Steve’s skin is awfully sensitive.

Tony goes slow, as promised. He eases Steve’s pants down and off. He touches parts he’s never focussed on before: the curve of his calf to the back of his knee, the left side of Steve’s ribs, the soft blonde fuzz that marks the start of a thicker trail leading down, the dip just beside Steve’s hip. He noses along, brushing kisses and licks. He feels the twitchy bob of Steve’s hard cock against his jaw: a reminder that it’s there, a nudge for attention. But he ignores it because there is just so much of Steve to consider right now. 

Steve doesn’t complain. In fact, he doesn’t utter a sound, and Tony looks up to make sure they’re still on track. One glance tells him all he needs to know. Steve is rapt. He’s turned on maybe more than Tony’s ever seen him, nostrils betraying a heavy breath that has nothing to do with exertion, lips flushed either from biting them or maybe just a rush of blood. Steve nods his assent to the unasked question.

Tony reaches up and presses two fingers to Steve’s lips, a substitution for a kiss he doesn’t move up to take. Tony moves downward still, drawing his hands along muscled thighs and pushing them open a bit more. He feels the tender skin of Steve's inner thigh with his tongue, follows where fine hair become downier, and moves inward. Steve's muscles flex, legs closing an inch, then opening a bit more, like he’s fighting the urge to close in on himself.

“That's it, open wider for me,” Tony says. 

Tony hears Steve suck in a breath and a glance upward shows him squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I can stay quiet,” Tony says. “If that's better.” He hopes not.

“Don't,” says Steve quickly. “I… like it.” He bites his lower lip, eyes still shut.  The admission seems to come hard, and Tony rewards him with soft strokes of his palms over Steve's knees. He kisses Steve’s inner thigh again gently. 

“Good. Okay. Open up, come on. Let me see you.” Tony presses gently on the knees under his hands, urging them wider. Steve obeys, shifting his feet further up as well so his thighs can drop open. “Mm, just like that,” Tony murmurs. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight, Steve still reaching up holding the headboard, naked and hard, spreading himself. His tension is visible, Steve’s stillness practically thrumming with restrained energy.

When Tony leans in to tongue the underside of Steve's sac, Steve jumps, because of course he didn't see it coming. Tony soothes with his hands and maintains contact with his mouth, taking a second to let Steve settle.

When he does, Tony swirls a few swipes in a suckle and then works his way downward, leaving Steve’s cock still untouched. Steve's feet skitter on the sheets, sliding down and returning to their previous position like he's embarrassed to have slipped. It’s a soldier’s commitment to perfection, and Tony files that little tidbit away for later.

He tongues quickly towards the furl that has so captured his imagination. Steve lets out a strangled sort of moan, and his knees drop wider. “Yeah, keep doing that,” Tony says. “I love your noises.” That gets him a whimpered huff.

And Tony remembers his thought from weeks prior, that he wanted to try licking Steve all night. Because he could, it's so perfect eating Steve out. But he wants to see something, to check whether Steve’s sensitivity extends to everywhere. So he adds a finger, petting and pressing, massaging around the perimeter. With the tip of his tongue and a gentle fingertip, he presses and kneads. Steve doesn’t relax, though, so Tony goes back to just his tongue for a bit, taking his time. He doesn’t always have patience, but here between Steve’s legs it’s like in his workshop: time has been checked at the door.

So he licks and tastes, kisses and sucks, and when Steve has acclimatized, head starting to loll to the side like that helps him focus on the sensation, Tony starts to introduce the finger again, pressing just the very tip inside like he’s asking permission.

When he looks up, Steve is looking at him, burning, incredulous, blue eyes a roiling sea. He nods.

Tony works his way in, as patiently as he’s approached all of this so far. If he were a good man, he could say it was out of consideration, but he’s self aware enough to know how much pleasure he takes in slowly undoing Steve. He lived for so long with the monolith of Captain America in his life, and he loves discovering the layers underneath, the man, the vulnerabilities. So he goes slow, and eases inside that velvet sheath, one finger to the second knuckle. Hot, smooth, a collar of muscles clenching and unclenching. 

It’s time for assistance, so Tony quickly reaches under the bed for the lube he stashed there weeks prior and returns to his position, nosing and licking in to warm Steve in case his skin has cooled in the seconds Tony was away. For his part, Steve adjusts his feet again, holding the position as if he’d been ordered to.

Once he’s worked a finger back inside, past the second knuckle, Tony turns his wrist and explores, pressing gently where he knows that bundle of nerves to be, but not wanting to overstimulate if Steve really is as sensitive as Tony suspects. By the jump and the surprised moan when he hasn’t even touched it properly, Tony knows he’s got it in one.

“Shh, I’ll take it easy don’t worry,” Tony says and pulls back. He turns his attention to licking around the rim, turning his finger and pressing the sides and gently introducing a second finger. Steve is almost squirming now, adjusting and readjusting his feet in minute increments, seeming to want to both back off and press in and not knowing which to do. Tony teases gently inside, pressing just a little and edging close to Steve’s prostate. 

He’s surprised by Steve’s groaned-out “Oh God,”. He sees Steve’s cock do a little jump, a burble of clear fluid squirting out. Tony presses again: another jump, another spurt.

“Jesus, Steve,” Tony breathes. He looks up and Steve’s brows are crinkled, his eyes closed. “Oh. You can let go. Of the headboard.”

Steve immediately throws his arm across his eyes. Tony’s chest fills up with something, some unnameable regret and affection. He withdraws his fingers slowly.

“No, please,” says Steve quickly.

Tony pushes his fingers back in, and watches Steve relax a fraction. 

Still covering his eyes, Steve says quietly, “Could you… could you keep talking? It ah. Helps.”

“Sure, yeah,” Tony says, and draws a blank. He strokes up Steve’s thigh with one hand and twists his fingers inside with the other, sliding up close to Steve’s bundle of nerves again.

Steve thunks his head on the headboard and groans, “Ohhhhh God,” as his cock spurts more precome.

“Oh wow, fuck. Steve, you’re gorgeous, this is beautiful, holy shit.” Tony finds his words in a rush and moves his free hand to Steve’s belly, stroking gently as he eases a little more pressure to Steve’s prostate. Steve’s turns his head into his own shoulder, biting his bottom lip and groaning, and Tony feels honest-to-God awe. “I never dreamed. I mean, I knew you were sensitive, and I hoped. Wow. No no no, I’m not stopping,” he says to Steve’s desperate little whimper when Tony adjusts his fingers a little. “See, here you go. Theeeere you go,” Tony says as he sets up a gentle pulsing rhythm, a bit lighter than the heaviest pressure he’s exerted thus far. Steve is panting, his erection twitching erratically and flushing darker, muscles flexing in his stomach and legs.

“Do you think you could come from this?” Tony asks after a minute of winding Steve up tighter and tighter. Tony’s caught up in it himself, feeling constricted and breathless. 

Steve just utters a hum, licking his lips and moving his arm back up to the headboard, but keeping his eyes closed. “P-please,” is all he says, followed by another pleading hum. He’s using his feet on the bed to pulse along with Tony now, pressing onto Tony’s fingers, and Tony thinks that if he’s this responsive to anal stimulation, with some practice, he could be fucking himself on Tony’s cock. Maybe Tony could even get him to come from it, fuck into him until he’s a shaking, spurting mess.

Tony puts the longer plan on pause and touches a fingertip from his free hand to the wet, sticky fluid still seeping from Steve’s dick, pulling up a viscous line and admiring it for a second. “Beautiful,” he says and pets his palm down on the length of Steve’s cock, rolling it very slightly and pressing it to his belly. The moan this elicits is filthy even to Tony’s experienced ears and for the first time he notices his own erection, probably because he’s just leaked onto his own leg.

He lifts Steve’s cock, cradling it gently in his palm, and the fingers in Steve’s ass spiral over the nerve bundle. Steve clenches on Tony’s fingers, lifts his ass off the bed, and pants hard with tiny vocalizations. He’s suspended there on the verge of an orgasm for a long moment, Tony keeping him teetering before pressing inside his ass just so and squeezing Steve’s cock lightly. Then Steve is coming, straining upwards, ecstatic groan ripping from him. Strings of white shoot up high in the air and pump out in so many bursts, Tony can’t believe it after about the seventh pump, at which point Steve relaxes back down through the last dribbles.

Tony gently removes his fingers and wipes them on the sheets, then pets Steve’s side patiently as if his own erection isn’t just about ready to match Thor’s hammer on indestructability. 

Steve comes down after a few moments, body relaxing little by little while Tony continues stroking, thinking of maybe jerking himself off on Steve’s chest, or maybe asking for a blowjob. But then Steve focuses on Tony with unexpected clarity, despite the red flush down his neck and chest. And not just clarity but heat. 

“Get on,” Steve says. When Tony just stares, trying to process, he continues. “I can… I know you need...” He touches Tony’s arm.

“Jesus, Steve,” Tony says, and thinks that may be his new mantra. “Already, after you just… how are you real?”

“Out of a bottle, right?” Steve says, though it lacks any acid. “It’s not… I’m not being altruistic here. I want you to…”

Tony waits for him to finish and he doesn’t, but Tony suddenly wants to hear it, to have Steve articulate what he wants because this is just the beginning if he can nearly make Steve come just from a little fingering. And if Steve can tell him what he wants, who knows how well they can explore each other? So: “Want me to…” he prompts.

“To… to fuck yourself on me,” Steve finishes, looking resolute but pinkening anyway. 

Tony swings a leg over Steve with alacrity and shakes his head. “You’re going to actually kill me. I’m not that young any more, and I have a few problems in here,” Tony taps the arc reactor. “So if I die with your dick in me, I’m really sorry, but it’ll be your fault.”

Steve’s lips twitch up, but he accompanies it with pressing his hips up to nudge Tony along, and the thick hardness of it beneath his ass sucks any charm or flirting Tony has left. He fumbles embarrassingly quickly for the lube but doesn’t even care about any loss of dignity as he perfunctorily sticks his fingers in himself just enough to get slick up in there. He doesn’t care about loosening himself, just wants to get that thing inside him already.

And Steve uncharacteristically goes along with it without pushing Tony to take better care of himself, and Tony wonders if Steve’s just forgotten but the thought fizzles as Steve lines himself up and urges Tony to sink with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

So Tony does, feeling the blunt pressure on his ass, resistance making them strain for a drawn-out second before the head pops in, making Tony gasp. Steve immediately gets contrite, but Tony shakes his head. “No no no. I just need to,” Tony breathes in, holds it, then exhales slowly and holds still. When he can relax, he slowly, deliberately, sits down on it. 

It’s a long, slow ache, an intrusion that takes all of Tony’s focus because it really does test his limits when he realizes at some point that he thinks he’s taken it all in but he hasn’t, it just keeps going. It’s fucking perfect. When he bottoms out, he grinds down and rolls his hips, and Steve’s grip on his hips becomes painful.

“Steve,” he says, brushing his fingers over Steve’s knuckles. 

“Oh God, sorry. Sorry,” Steve says, and Tony smirks, smiling down at the hard red marks Steve’s left that will definitely be bruises.

“No you’re good. So good, and big, my God. It’s.” Tony lifts and slides down, then does it again, holding his breath and letting it out in a hiss.

“ _ Christ,  _ Tony,” Steve says, eyes glittering. Steve threads his fingers through Tony’s and thrusts up into him, who swears, surprised. 

Tony shifts his weight forwards so he’s leaning more weight onto Steve’s hands, and Steve starts to fuck up into him. It’s surreal, being on top and feeling like he’s just being held still to take it. Tony starts feeling like he really needs to come soon because this whole thing is wringing him out and he wants Steve to just fuck an orgasm out of him.

He untangles one hand and starts to fist his cock before Steve gently but firmly removes Tony’s hand and replaces it with his own. 

“Let me, I want to… I want to pull it from you like you pulled it from me.”

And that’s just more articulate and hot than Steve has any right to be after coming so hard, but Tony’s a stupid blubbering mess of horniness right now so he says nothing, just nods and bites his lip and closes his eyes, knowing Steve is watching him intently. And he doesn’t mind at all being watched. So turns inward, feeling that cock sliding in and out of him, the big, powerful hand rubbing him, and puts a picture in his head of Steve arched up off the bed and the look on his face when he came. He climbs quickly to his crest, then tumbles right over with Steve’s name on his lips and visage in his head and skin touching him everywhere and everything is  _ Steve Steve Steve _ and the world shakes apart around him.

The next thing he’s aware of Tony’s shivering out a final few shudders and he’s plastered to Steve’s front. Steve’s dick slips out of him, followed by a rush of fluid.

“Sorry, I, ah,” Steve says.

“Again? Fuck, that’s incredible. God, we’re going to have so much fun,” Tony says, his voice breathless and his body a limp noodle but feeling a warm fuzzy haze of pleasure everywhere in his body and mind.

Steve huffs a laugh. “Evidence suggests you’re probably right,” he says drily. “Provided we’re not cock-blocked by hostile aliens.”

“How are you still talking?” Tony doesn’t bother lifting his head, just lets his question get muffled by Steve’s chest. Said chest shakes a little at Steve’s chuckle, and Tony lifts his head then. “Could you go again? Hypothetically, I mean?”

Steve looks a combination of apologetic and embarrassed as he nods. “I… yeah. I think so.”

Tony searches Steve’s eyes, like he’s a puzzle to be solved, but one made of whisky and porn and unicorns. “We can explore that. If you want, I mean. I could… I know I’m usually all ‘challenge accepted’ and I’d hate to put you off of sex just by being, well, me, but I gotta tell you. I’m feeling like that’s a challenge I could help you with. Wearing you out. If you want.”

Steve gets that little furrow between his brows that means he’s thinking, and Tony wishes Steve were a little easier to read overall. But Steve’s hand is resting on the small of Tony’s back and his thumb is still absent-mindedly stroking the skin there, so it can’t be that bad, whatever he’s thinking.

“I’m not sure how you could think you could put me off sex, given oh, the last hour or so.”

“Right, that’s… that’s good,” Tony says, and is lost for words again. Damn Steve, always answering the wrong part of whatever Tony says.

“Thank you,” Steve says.

Tony stills completely, then backs up enough to see Steve’s face properly. “Thank you?  _ Thank you _ ? For… for finding your g-spot, for riding you like a stallion, for coming all over you, or… what? What kind of answer is that?”

Steve is trying to suppress a smile and mostly failing, and the embarrassment is pretty much gone, which Tony should notice more than in a passing way but he’s too caught up in realizing Steve might be winding him up, just a little.

“Thanks for being patient with me.”

“Oh.” Tony’s not sure he’s quite ready for this conversation to be serious, but then, Steve always catches him off guard that way.

“And thanks for the offer. I hope it stands for, ah, whenever I’m up for that. Which… I think I might be. Someday.”

“Oh,” Tony says again. He pets over Steve’s pec and keeps his gaze there. It’s ridiculous to feel a bit bashful when he literally just offered to see how many orgasms he could give Steve, but he can’t help it. “Right, okay. Sometime in the future then.”

“Mm hm.” Steve’s thumb sweeps more broadly, more deliberately over the small of Tony’s back.

Tony has nothing to say because “future” and “someday” aren’t words they’ve used before. Tony thinks that maybe Steve isn’t talking about just a marathon sex session. Or maybe he is. And either thought scares the fuck out of him because he’s not good at long-term but the thought of closing the door on that possibility sounds terrible, too. And if Tony were braver he’d ask if Steve means something more, but he’s not brave at all, not in this context.

So he just puts his head back down on Steve’s chest and says, “You’re welcome,” quietly. Because he might not be able to muster Steve’s plain honesty, but he can at least leave aside the verbal armour for a moment.

*** 


End file.
